


hold your peace

by ymorton



Category: Pod Save America (RPF)
Genre: Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-08 22:06:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11655660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ymorton/pseuds/ymorton
Summary: a meme fill for the prompt: things you said that i wish you hadn't, jonjon





	hold your peace

**Author's Note:**

> pls be chill and do not show this to anyone involved!!!!
> 
> this is a shameless self-plagiarism from a gryles fic meme i did a long time ago, but whatever. there should be overdramatic wedding angst in every fandom.

Jon bites his bottom lip and carefully fixes Lovett’s tie.

“What?” Lovett demands. “You have that face you get when you really want to say something but your upbringing is keeping you silent. Say what you need to say, Jon. Pretend you're in the confessional.” 

Jon laughs helplessly, finishes tying the tie and tugs on it a little. It should hold. He has no idea how Lovett got through a career in the White House and 40 years of age without figuring out how to properly tie a tie, but if anyone could, it’s Lovett.

“Nothing,” he says. “Just- can’t believe this is actually happening.”

“I should be insulted but I get it.” Lovett steps to the side to look past him into the mirror. “Never pictured myself at the altar. Especially with a 300-guest white tablecloth beach wedding like a fucking straight person. No offense.”

Jon goes red and determinedly starts fiddling with his own tie, even though it’s already perfectly knotted. They are not going to talk about this. He is not going to- fuck this up.  

“You’re being weird,” Lovett says, eyeing him.

“I am not. I’m just nervous.” Jon fixes his hair in the mirror. “For you.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Sorry,” Jon says, huffing a laugh. “I didn’t mean it like- I just- never mind. I’m just excited."

It sounds hollow. He has to work on that.

“What?  _What_?” Lovett’s getting more stressed, Jon can tell from his trembling hands as he buttons and unbuttons his suit. “Are you freaked out that Emily’s here? Have you guys talked? I wasn’t gonna not invite her, I mean-”

“Of course I’m not- you know we’re on good terms. Well. Relatively.”

“Of course you’d be the only person in the world to get divorced and still have a good relationship with your ex-wife,” Lovett grumbles. “If Sam and I get divorced we’re gonna have to live on opposite continents. I wouldn’t want to see his face ever again.”

Jon keeps his face steady and pulls Lovett’s hands away from his suit. “Stop messing with it, it’ll wrinkle.” 

Lovett wriggles out of his grasp and Jon takes a step back, sits at the edge of the counter, watching him for a minute. Lovett looks good, in his well-cut suit. He’s pale with nerves but he looks good.

“Well?” he says, gesturing down his body, fixing Jon with a slightly crazy-eyed stare. “This is the best it’s gonna get.

“You look good,” Jon says stiffly.

“Just good?”

“You look great, Lovett.” Jon tries to sound annoyed but he can’t quite manage it. He swallows hard. “Lovett, I-“

He stops himself. Jon looks up at him, curious.

“What is with you? Did you take one of those pills you take to fly?”

Jon was tempted to, actually, but- “Jesus. No. Of course not.”

“What, do you have some grave concern about Sam that you’re gonna yell during the ceremony when they ask if there are any objections? Speak now or forever hold your peace?” Lovett laughs. “How ironic would it be if the straight Catholic started all the drama at a gay wedding.”

“No,” Jon says, and it comes out a little choked. “But I’m not.”

“Not going to object? You better not.“  

“Not straight,” Jon says, not looking at him. Jesus,  _now_ , Favreau? He’s gonna do this now? Two hours before the wedding?

Lovett’s looking at him, brow furrowed. He laughs after a second, short and strange. “What?”

“Just- it doesn’t matter, right now, but. Just so you know.”

“Just so I know what? Is- is this a joke?” Lovett looks genuinely angry, cheeks red. “Is this some kind of prank? Like a reverse homophobic hazing?”

“What the fuck kind of prank would that be?” Jon snaps.  

“I don’t fucking know!” Lovett’s voice is going high.

“It’s not a prank.” He fucking hates this. He shouldn’t have started this. “I just wanted you to know. Sorry.”

Lovett is still staring at him.

“You’re straight,” he says, voice small. “I would’ve known if you-“

He stops, shakes his head, looks at himself in the mirror. He still looks unsteady, cheeks flushed. 

“Emily and I-“ Jon doesn’t know how to say this. He can’t ruin this day, he  _can’t_. “We- we- when we started going to the therapist, it just- things started, like. Becoming more clear.”

“Oh my god, this is a joke,” Lovett says, to himself almost. “This is a joke.”

“Lovett.”

“This isn’t happening,” Lovett mumbles, scrubbing his hands over his face.

“I’m sorry,” Jon says, voice thick. “That was shitty timing. I just dumped that on you. This is your day, Lovett, I didn’t mean to-”

“That’s why you got divorced?” Lovett asks, hands still over his face.

“It’s- it’s part of it.”

“You never told me that.” Lovett drops his hands and stares at him in the mirror. Jon has to drop his gaze after a second. “It’s been a whole fucking year since you got divorced and you didn’t tell me, and- and you’re telling me  _now_?”

“I’m sorry,” Jon says. He coughs out the heat in his throat. “I know. I’m an idiot.”

“Did you cheat on Emily?” Lovett asks, in a whisper.

“Of course I fucking didn’t. Of course I-“ Jon feels dizzy. He should shut up, stop, but something feels surreal about today. “I didn’t cheat on her. It just- it came up, when we started talking about our issues, like the doctor said that I - that I had these feelings.”

He stops, dangerously close to saying it all. Now that would be shitty timing. 

“The doctor told you you’re gay,” Lovett says, with a choked laugh. “Like she diagnosed you. I’m sorry, Mr. Favreau, you're homosexual-“  

Jon is hot all over, eyes prickling. “Shut up, Lovett.”

“Don’t tell  _me_  to shut up!” Lovett yelps. “Don’t tell  _me_  to-“

There’s a loud knock at the door.

“Jonathan,” someone calls. “Can I come in, are you decent?”

“One second, mom!” Lovett yells. He shoves Jon back, hard, and Jon catches himself on the wall. “I can’t deal with this right now. Gay epiphanies can come later. Tomorrow. Or after we get back from the Maldives.”

“Fine,” Jon says, hoarsely. 

“Just go downstairs. Okay?” 

Jon turns to go, stomach clenched. Lovett’s mom is outside, holding a box in one hand and a glass of champagne in the other.

“Oh hi, sweetheart,” she says, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “The other groomsmen are downstairs having a drink.”

“Thanks, Fran,” Jon says numbly. He can’t look into her eyes. “Congratulations. It’s going to be a beautiful day.”

“I think so, too. If the weather holds. Winter in California, I don’t know what he was thinking.”

“You know how he is.”

“Don’t I.” She squeezes his shoulder. “Go downstairs, honey, have a glass of champagne. It’s good stuff. Sam brought it from his last trip to France.”

Jon nods, and she pushes the door open.

“Jonathan?” he hears her say as he makes his way down the stairs, straightening his suit, pressing at the corner of one eye with his thumb and sniffing in hard. “Jonathan, are you dressed?”


End file.
